


A Momentary Lapse of Reason

by lielabell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 01:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had, of course, hoped that Cas would get it.  That Cas would fall just as deeply in love with classic Americana as Dean was.  And, for the most part, Dean got what he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Momentary Lapse of Reason

Being friends with someone means sharing the things you like with them, and so Dean exposed Castiel to all of his favorite things. Books. Bands. T.V. shows. And, of course, pie. And he didn't just do it so that he would have someone to help him vote down Sammy's crap taste, no matter what Sammy says on the subject.

It was done out of a desire to encourage Cas in the right direction, to show him the best humanity had to offer in hopes of explaining why humans were so great. It was totally a Big Picture move. Not petty at all, thank you very much.

Dean had, of course, hoped that Cas would get it. That Cas would fall just as deeply in love with classic Americana as Dean was. And, for the most part, Dean got what he wanted. He just... sorta wished that maybe Cas had latched onto more than one song from one band. Because, as much as he loved him some Pink Floyd, Dean was going to gut someone if he had to sit through another hour of nothing but _Learning To Fly_.

"This is all your fault," he hissed at Sam, his fingers clenching on the steering wheel. "You and your everyone-gets-a-turn-equal-rights bullshit."

Sammy glares at him. "How is it at all my fault? I didn't give him that tape. That's all on you, big guy."

"If you hadn't decided to fuck with my perfectly good system of driver-picks-the-tunes, his taste wouldn't matter," Dean continued like Sam didn't say a thing.

"I have made my decision," Cas said from the back seat. Dean glanced into the rear view mirror and sees him holding up a familiar tape.

"Seriously?" he asked, even though he knows that Cas is as serious as the grave.

"Yes."

"You know if you keep listing to the same song over and over you will break the tape, right?" Dean countered, hoping for a way out of another hour of what was, in any other circumstances, is one of his favorite tunes.

Cas's eyes meet him in the mirror. "Then perhaps you should consider an up-grade. Perhaps if you had an iPod the way Sam does, you would not be so concerned."

Sam, damn his eyes, laughed. "I hate you all," Dean snapped as he reached back to take the proffered tape.

"I don't understand. You told me that _A Momentary Lapse of Reason_ was your favorite Pink Floyd album. How can you be displeased that I am similarly inclined towards it?" Cas asked, his head cocked to the side.

"It is," Dean blustered. "But, come on. Talk about overkill."

"I think it's very apt," Sammy said, that laugh of his still in his voice.

Dean gave him his best stink eye. "You would," he muttered as the first strains of _Signs of Life_ fill the car.

Sam made an I’m-so-sweet-and-innocent face. “Hey, don’t blame me if I’m enjoying the hell out of the fact that your plan totally backfired.”

“Please,” Dean said with an aggrieved sigh. “There was no plan. And even if there had been, it _didn’t_ backfire. I don’t see Cas begging for another go at your Death Cab collection.”

“It wouldn’t be near so ironic if he was.”

“There is nothing at all ironic about this situation,” Dean snapped, taking his eyes away from the road long enough to glower at Sam.

Sam just smirked. “Oh but there is. And I’m appreciating the hell out of it.”

"I also appreciate the irony," Cas put in from the back seat, like anyone wanted to hear his opinion on the matter.

"Oh, the hell you do," Dean gritted out. "You don't even know the definition of the word."

Cas shifted in his seat, then leaned forward, his fingers gripping the leather seat cover inches from Dean's shoulder. "I am not unable to grasp basic concepts, Dean."

"I don't know, you seem to be unable to grasp the concept of listening to more than one song," Dean shot back.

Sammy snickered. "I hate it when Mommy and Daddy fight," he said all snide and such.

Dean smacked the back of his head. "Shut it!"

"That hurt," Sammy complained, slugging Dean in the arm. “Jerk.”

"Bitch!" Dean aimed a slug of his own in Sammy's direction.

"Watch the road," Sammy barked as he dodged the blow.

Dean aimed again and this time he didn't miss. "Make me."

"I would like to listen to _Learning to Fly_ now," Cas said and this time Sammy sighed along with Dean.

"It's the next song," Dean wheedled. "Can't we just wait for this one to finish first?"

Cas shook his head. "It is my turn to pick the music. I pick _Learning to Fly._ "

Dean bit back ugly words and jammed his thumb on the fast forward button, mentally counting to three. He released it and, sure enough, hit the opening of Cas's pretty new obsession.

He shot another glower back in Cas's direction, but he might as well just not bothered because the stupid, pig-headed angel's eyes are closed as he hummed tunelessly to the music.

"You know," Dean said after a few moments of watching Cas rock out, "I think I’m cool with this. I mean, it’s not like it’s crap music. And look at how happy he is."

“Who are you talking to?” Sam asked, his arms crossed over his chest and a you’re-so-fucking-crazy look on his face.

Dean gave him his best shut-your-pie-hole glare and then started to whistle the tune, completely ignoring the roll of the eyes Sammy sent in his direction. Because while, yeah, it sort of sucked having to listen to the same damn thing yet again, Cas liked it. Repeat: Castiel, Mother Fucking Angel of the Lord, liked it. Which meant that even angels thought that Pink Floyd kicked serious ass.

And how can anyone be upset about that? Dean grinned to himself, tapping his fingers along to the beat. No one, that’s who.


End file.
